Prom
by The Grandeurs of Despair
Summary: Enjolras asks a certain question to a certain girl and it doesn't go quite as expected...


**A/N: So I got this prompt in Creative Writing club and I couldn't resist an Awkward!Enjolras and this was born! _Constructive_ critism would be greatly appreciated.**

**The character of Cendrine was loosely based off a great blog called Texts From Enjolras ( ) which you should all go check out**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them, they belong to the master Victor Hugo. If I did the Barricade Boys would've survived.**

* * *

Enjolras took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

_I can do this, _he told himself. _I can get through this, it'll be fine._

Enjolras got up from his spot at the desk and walked out of the room, trying to mentally prepare himself. He swept his eyes across the hall as he walked, searching for the object of his current terror.

He spotted her, standing at the other end of the hall, talking with a group of friends. He just stood there for a moment, admiring her. How her nose crinkled slightly when she laughed, and dimples appeared when she smiled. How her bright, hazel eyes reflected the light, making them look gold.

Enjolras was still standing there, gawking at the girl from across the hall, when he felt someone drop their hand heavily on his shoulder, shocking him out of his trance. "Don't leave your mouth hanging open like that, you'll catch flies."

"Courf," Enjolras sighed, "shut up."

Courfeyrac, one of Enjolras's oldest friends, just laughed and put his arm around his shoulders. "Go talk to her, Enj, she's just a girl."

"Girls are very complex creatures, mon ami."

"Yeah, not really. You, sir, just have no social skills, whatsoever."

"I have social skills!" Enjolras replied. "Just… not when it comes to girls…"

"You mean potential-prom-date-girls!" Courfeyrac teased, a wide grin covering his face.

Enjolras's only response was to glare, his famous angelic-death glare that could put the fear of god in even the toughest men, but in this case, only made Courfeyrac grin wider and hold up his hands in surrender. "She can't read your mind, Enjolras, you'll never get a prom date if you don't ask her."

"You know, actually, this is a bad idea. Prom is just a waste of time, I should be focusing on-on my studies and writing my speech for the next rally, and I should really get home and get started on that."

"Not gonna happen, Enjolras," Courfeyrac said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Enjolras's eyes widened in understanding. "Courfeyrac, don't. Don't you dare!"

"Hey, Cendrine!" Courfeyrac called. And it was too late. Suddenly, the girl Enjolras had been fawning over for the past three months was looking at them, saying goodbye to her friends, and walking his way.

"Good luck, mon ami," Courfeyrac said as he clapped him on the back and walked away, smiling to himself.

Enjolras didn't even glare at his so-called-friend as he was paralyzed with fear by the girl walking towards him. He tried, desperately, to think of something to say to her, but, for the first time in his life, his words failed him. And, suddenly, she was there. Standing in front of him, smiling brightly, and waiting for him to speak. "Enjolras?" she said, a hint of amusement in her eyes, when he continued to stand there, silent.

"Oh, um, hi, Cendrine…" Enjolras said, his gaze flickering quickly between her eyes and his feet. His heart was beating so hard he swore everyone in the school could hear it. An awkward silence stretched on for a minute, Enjolras being unable to find the words he needed.

"So, was there something you wanted to ask me?" she said, almost expectantly, like she knew what he wanted to ask but enjoyed watching the normally confident, and assertive young man be reduced to a nervous wreck.

"Yes," he said. He stood up straight and took a deep breath, trying to calm his frazzled nerves. "I was wondering… y'know, if you, umm… if you would maybe like to…" he trailed off, waving his hand around in the air, unable to finish, and Cendrine giggled at the sight of the man in front of her. Enjolras, the boy who tried to stage a revolution against the school cafeteria when he was ten for raising the milk prices, was now standing in front of her, wringing his hands, and looking at his feet, causing his golden curls to fall in front of his eyes making him look like a scared little child, with a slight blush creeping across his face.

Finally, she took pity on him and covered his hands with her own, making his body tense and freeze. "Enjolras," she said and, finally, he looked up at her, "I would love to go to Prom with you."

Enjolras grinned, one of his wide, infectious smiles that were seen by only a few, and said, "Really?"

"Really. I've gotta get going, but I'll see you later, okay?" She said, and walked away, but not before planting a small kiss on his fair cheek, causing his face to turn bright red.

Enjolras stood there for a moment in shock, staring at nothing, and was only broken out of his daze when he heard a very familiar laugh. He turned to see Courfeyrac, watching him from the end of the hall, giving him a thumbs up, doubled over in laughter.


End file.
